Dripping Writers and Cutting Deeper

Listening to: My Chemical Romance, Helena

I do't know if it's the constant working out, the fact that everything's slipping mournfully down the drain or something else but life's getting emo for me. I've been drowning any anger other emotion in the fight against a pot belly and other places that have been growing to quickly like my arm wigglies. Working out is supposed to give you a natural high but I doubt it that or I have a very high point of nirvana... or whatever it's called. I think I'm becomming one of those weirdoes who become addicted and obsessed with their weight and exersize. You know something's wrong when you're up at 5:30 running around the park in sweats a tank and your mothers trainers- er sneakers.

But that's probably just some kind of paranoia.

On the subject of my life going down the drain. Like I said, I'm giving myself indigestion by attempting to stuff all that inner rage into a bottle behind my gall bladder, not literaly of course. My friend's mad at me, everyone else hates me because of the solos I got in our Musical Theater, I don't think any of these workouts are helping me loose weight, I just destroyed at least 2 peices of glasswork, I nearly chopped my hand off with a blender, and did I mention all my friends and family are pissed at me?

The only thing that's not going bad is that I don't think my grades are going down that far yet. I hate studio school. I don't want to become like Lindsay Lohan, thin and creepy, but I've found myself eating less and less... I think I'm sticking the emotions in my stomach not my gall bladder. I'm going to do some crunches or something.

You know you love me,
Lara